


Four Is Company

by celeste9



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Gift Fic, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HG and Myka take care of a rather famous artifact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Is Company

**Author's Note:**

> Written for lsellersfic for Fandom Stocking. With apologies to Tolkien; set in some nebulous time when everyone likes each other.

“Myka!” Helena managed to gasp out as their invisible antagonist did his best to throttle her.

“I can’t get a clean shot!”

If Helena hadn’t been quite in the middle of something, she would have pointed out that getting a clean shot on an invisible person was damn near impossible. As dark spots began to dance before her eyes, Helena was able to push herself backwards enough to slam the man’s back against the wall and bring her heel down sharply on what she hoped was his foot.

Going by the yelp and the loosening of the hands around her throat, she’d judged rightly. Helena extricated herself and said hoarsely, “Now, Myka!”

Myka fired her Tesla before Helena had even finished speaking. There was no grunt or the sound of a body collapsing and Myka asked hesitantly, “Do you think I got him?”

An instant later Myka was knocked to the ground, her arm out wide as she grappled with an invisible foe.

“I’m going to say that’s a no,” Helena said and, weighing her options, decided the risk was worth it. She unsheathed her knife, seized Myka’s wrist, and felt quickly before slicing her knife through (again, hopefully) the man’s finger.

This time he yelled and the noise was accompanied by a spray of blood, followed by a ringed finger falling to the floor and the reappearance of one George Fellowes. He crawled backwards away from Myka, clutching his hand to his chest. “You cut off my finger, you crazy bitch!”

“Yes, I did,” Helena said, wiping her knife clean and sheathing it.

Myka gingerly picked up the finger and dropped it into the neutralizer bag. Shortly afterwards there was the expected electrical charge, the tiny flash and pop. “Ew,” Myka said, wrinkling her nose. “No wonder he wanted Frodo to drop the thing in the fires of Mount Doom.”

Helena found she agreed whole-heartedly.

“Hey! Myka!”

They turned around at the voice, seeing Pete skidding to a halt in the doorway, chest heaving slightly as he caught his breath. “Did you--” He paused, eyes stopping on George. “Aw, man, did you have to go all Gollum on the guy?”

“Yes, actually,” Helena replied, shrugging. “I’m only glad I got the right finger.” And managed not to harm Myka in the process.

Pete stared at her. “You are terrifying, you know that?” He proceeded to yank George up, using his outer shirt to staunch the blood still oozing before he cuffed him. “I liked this shirt, too.”

“You have at least two more just like that one in your closet,” Myka said.

“Not _just_ like this one,” Pete muttered, pouting.

Helena and Myka shared a look, both exasperated and vaguely amused in spite of themselves, as generally befitted dealing with Pete. Myka reached out her hand to gently touch Helena’s neck. “Are you all right? It must hurt; it looks really red.”

“I’ll be fine,” Helena assured her. “And you?”

“Perfect, thanks to you.”

“If you wanted to, say, express your relief at still being alive and in one piece or, you know, cuddle a bit or something, I’d be down with that,” Pete chimed in, reminding Helena that they were, unfortunately, not alone. “I don’t think George here would object to watching that for a while either, would you, George?”

George said something under his breath that was best not to be repeated.

Myka rolled her eyes. “Gross, Pete.” But she rested her other hand against the curve of Helena’s waist, the brightness in her face a promise.

Helena let her hand rest on Myka’s. For later, when they were alone.

**_End_ **


End file.
